


Over the Edge

by nicoleb



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Depression, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleb/pseuds/nicoleb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the final episode of the second series, Rick is finding it difficult to deal with the deaths of his parents. He finds unlikely comfort in Vyvyan, but things soon turn complicated. Warnings: Rick/Vyvyan; implied, one-sided Rick/Morrison and Vyvyan/Mike; slash; smut; non-canon; abuse, depression and suicidal thoughts in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, everyone! I don't have much to say here apart from the fact that I am creepily obsessed with Rick/Vyvyan from The Young Ones at the moment, hence this fanfic. :P Why I love this pairing so much is something I hope to explore more in meta elsewhere. As for this fanfic, I'm really enjoying writing it. TYO's canon presents an opportunity to write in a unique style that mixes humor and angst, which is the main theme I'm going for here. I realize it's a very delicate balance to maintain, so please forgive any weirdness you might come across. Reviews and constructive critisism are always welcome. ^^
> 
> I should add that this fic was heavily inspired by Lone Gunwoman of the Week's wonderful Rick/Vyvyan fanfic, Death, which can be read over at LJ - namely of the idea of Vyv comforting Rick over the death of his parents. I dedicate this fic to all fellow Rick/Vyvyan shippers. You're all awesome. :')
> 
> Warnings: Rick/Vyvyan; implied, one-sided Vyvyan/Mike; slash; smut; non-canon; abuse, depression and suicidal themes in later chapters. Also posted on FF.net

"Wake up, Rick, you stupid bastard!"

That was the first thing Rick remembered hearing after the punk moron had driven them all off the cliff in their stolen getaway bus.

 _'Never should've let that idiot drive'_ was the first thing he remembered thinking. A numbing, stinging feeling around his right arm, leg and side of his torso was the first thing he remembered feeling. Well, that and an unpleasant tingling around his lips and mouth, and the fact that it was a little difficult to breathe.

"I said wake _up_ , Rick, you stupid bastard!"

Rick was used to Vyvyan yelling him awake with these words - at least once a day, in fact - but what he wasn't used to was the tone of voice he was using. It took Rick a moment in his groggy, recently-fallen-off-a-cliff-state to recognize the tone: concern.

Oh, but it wouldn't be for him, certainly. Vyvyan hated him, always had, and Rick hated him just as much. Most days, he hated him even more than Neil, whom Rick thought he could hear somewhere off in the background, mumbling about how heavy and uncool their present situation was.

Rick knew they never would've been in this position if he'd been the one driving. Apart from all else, _he_ had been the one who had gone to the trouble of stealing the double-decker bus, even going back for his three ungrateful flatmates at great personal risk. Although, that had been more because he'd known the others would somehow get him if he abandoned them. They'd have probably given his name to the pigs in exchange for a lighter jail sentence.

Stupid Vyvyan. It was all his fault. Of course the maniac had bullied his way into taking over the steering wheel barely five minutes after they'd started driving. According to him, he was the best driver, even though Rick had passed his own driver's test with flying colors... or, he'd _passed_ , anyway. Granted, he'd had to take the course three times, but...

Rick's thoughts were suddenly cut short as he felt a pair of strong, greasy fingers pinching his nose. He tried to gasp, but found himself sucking in air from a mouth now covering his.

_Oh... Oh God, no._

Rick opened his eyes, which up until this point had been closed, and began spluttering, clawing weakly at the man on top of him. As he'd feared, it was Vyvyan - he'd thought he felt his damn nose-ring - who, to his credit, did pull back immediately upon realizing his flatmate was still breathing.

"You alive, then?" Vyvyan asked. The concern had gone out of his voice and been replaced with something closer to disgust. He wasn't alone.

"Vyvyan, you bastard!" Rick shouted. "Don't go thinking you can take advantage of _me_ like that!"

"I wasn't, you stupid poof," Vyvyan said, rolling his eyes in that infuriating way he had. "I was giving you mouth-to-mouth, like they showed me in my course! I saved your life!"

Rick couldn't answer. He wanted to get up, roll over onto his stomach and vomit, but his body felt like it was made of lead. Dimly, he realized he was lying on his back, on uncomfortable stone outside the burning bus. Neil was sitting a few feet away in something resembling the fetal position, hands covering his ears while he rocked and moaned 'heeeaaavy...' over and over. Mike was standing a little apart from him, evidently listening to something out of sight. Rick was fairly certain he could hear sirens off in the distance, which was probably also what the short man was listening for.

_Just brilliant._

Vyvyan was sitting between Rick and Neil, completely unperturbed and using the still-burning bus to light up a cigarette. When he saw that Rick was looking at him, he glared, gave a long pull on his smoke, and looked away.

After a few moments of silence - not counting the smolder next to them and Neil's continued moaning - Mike turned his attention to the other boys. He looked scared out of his mind but was clearly trying to remain calm and cool like always. He caught sight of Rick and gave him an attempted nonchalant smile.

"Oh, you're alive then, Rick? I thought you'd carked it for sure. I told Vyvyan not to even bother pulling you out of the bus, but he wouldn't listen. Good thing he didn't, I suppose. I told him to give up the mouth-to-mouth stuff too, but he wouldn't listen to that either. He must've been at you for... what, five minutes, d'you think, Vyv?"

Vyvyan hunched down, muttered, "Shut up, Michael," and went back to his cigarette. Rick didn't know what to say. Normally he would've been enraged at Mike's casual confession to having just disregarded his life like a sack of old potatoes - not that that was anything new - but his words about Vyvyan pulled him up. Not only had the punk pulled him out of the bus, possibly even risking his own life in the process, but he'd apparently also spent the last five minutes doing... that to him. Rick retched.

"It's only 'cause you're our alibi, Rick," Vyvyan said, not looking at him. "I'm not going to jail. I've got too much to do, so many things to wreck..."

Rick felt too sick to answer. His right side was really starting to hurt now, and he was pretty sure he had smoke in his lungs. Maybe he'd actually been dead for a few minutes. For an instant, somewhere in the back of his unconscious mind, he'd been certain he'd seen his parents, standing in front of a white gate and waiting to greet him. If he hadn't imagined it, they must've been disappointed when Vyvyan had pulled him back.

Oh wait, wasn't he meant to be an agnostic? _Damn it._

Rick stared up at the sky, or what little of it he could see that wasn't covered in smoke from the burning wreckage.

_Bloody Britain. This view's terrible. I think I'm going to... go back to sleep._

Rick's eyelids fluttered and his world spun as, abruptly, unconsciousness took him again.

When he awoke the second time, it was to a blinding pain in his right arm as someone was pinning it, along with his left, behind his back. He tried to protest, but only managed a string of violent coughs instead. He was on his front now, which he supposed made it easier if he wanted to vomit. He did just that, spilling the remains of the garbage contents Neil had made for them the night before onto the stone. Good Cliff, it burned. The only thing worse than vomiting up garbage was vomiting up garbage and smoke that you may or may not have recently ingested a fatal amount of. And from the feel of it, he was doing that as well.

When he was done, still lying down, Rick collapsed, partially in his own vomit. Exhausted, he didn't put up any further resistance to whoever was restraining him - a pig, most likely. Nearby, he could hear Neil, presumably in the same position, complaining about the social ladder or something. It was hard to tell, as Mike was also talking, a little further away, still trying to sound in control as he was mentioning something about having several personal friends who were lawyers.

 _That_ was also hard to be certain of though, because Vyvyan was screaming over _both_ of them, mostly death threats and uncreative puns on pork and bacon. That only made Rick want to puke again, and he had to struggle not to restart his retching.

It was difficult to tell exactly where Vyvyan was. He seemed to be everywhere in the immediate area, and there was a great deal of banging and thumping accompanying his voice too.

"I know my rights, you rotten pork fillets!" Vyvyan yelled.

Rick managed to lift his head and turn it in the direction of the punk's voice. He did this just in time to slightly anticipate an impact as Vyvyan, trying to fight his way with at least half a dozen cops, was finally forced down, right beside Rick and banging his left knee into said man's right on the way down. Rick let out an unceremonious scream that, even in his agony, he knew sounded pathetically girly.

"That sounded pathetically girly, Rick," Vyvyan said from beside him, still trying to push his assailants off him.

Rick felt too nauseous to reply. He certainly hadn't conducted himself with anarchistic dignity so far. He'd even needed _rescuing_ , like he was some helpless little kid. Blimey, he'd _never_ hear the end of that from Vyvyan... if the idiot didn't get himself killed trying to resist arrest first. His arm, leg and torso felt burned, which they probably were, and Vyvyan's hard-chain boot knocking against him hadn't exactly helped. He'd remembered hearing in a sociology lecture once that the worst pain in the world was that of being burned. He didn't doubt it now. Oh God, he didn't...

Rick wasn't even aware of passing out the next time, only that his next conscious memory was of himself, lying face-up on a stationary stretcher. His hands were cuffed individually to either side of rail guards, and he had some kind of mask over his face. Normally he would've tried to free his hands enough to pull the blasted thing off his face, but the mask was steadily pumping what tasted like oxygen into his body, which was a good thing. His burns no longer hurt either, which was also a good thing.

When he came more to himself, he realized he was in the back of an ambulance - a moving one, he gathered from the slight rocking of the vehicle. There was an IV drip attached to one of his restrained arms, which was probably the source of his no-longer-hurting burns. Well, at least the pork fillets had the courtesy to make sure he didn't die before they carted him off to the big house.

_Really, what a way to treat an injured, traumatized, law-abiding student! ...'Pork fillets.' That's actually really witty. I surprise even myself sometimes. I wonder how I thought of that one. I'll have to write it down when I get the chance._

Looking for someone to complain to, Rick turned his head to the side as much as his limited position would allow. He'd expected to find a pig there, keeping watch on him, but instead he found...

"Vyvyan?"

His fellow student didn't reply. Like him, he was secured to a stretcher, an IV connected to one of his arms and an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. And like Rick had been only minutes before, he appeared deeply unconscious. Aside from his closed eyes and heavy breathing, if Vyvyan had been conscious, he would've been doing his best to tear out of his restraints and reduce the ambulance and everyone inside it to rubble. He hadn't seemed that out of it when the pigs had shown up, though. More likely than not, they'd resorted to sedating him after he'd tried once too often to bite their arms off. Normally Rick would've called that disgusting police brutality and ranted about it for at least a few hours, but with Vyvyan... well, he could hardly blame them. Hell, he almost would've felt sorry for them... if they hadn't been pigs.

"Vyvyan," Rick said again, voice muffled slightly by his mask.

"Quiet, you," someone said from his other side.

Startled, Rick turned his head to the new speaker. The cop he'd expected to find where his flatmade lay was on his other side, holding a newspaper and giving Rick a very disapproving look.

"Shut up, fascist!" Rick said, well aware that he couldn't do anything to make him. Not that he would've tried any direct confrontation in the first place, but still.

The cop ignored him and went back to his paper, which Rick was secretly thankful for. Much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't stand up to anyone in a fight at the best of times, let alone when he was restrained and feeling pretty sick. He turned his attention back to Vyvyan, more because he didn't want to look at the ugly pig than because he was overly concerned for his fellow student.

Looking at him, Rick noticed for the first time that Vyvyan's jacket sleeves were even more dirty and torn than usual, and that the black shirt he wore underneath was equally tattered. There were also some ugly, red marks shining out against his pale skin, just under the new tears. Rick didn't know how he could've missed such marks until now. Well, admittedly he _had_ been a bit too distracted to pay much attention to Vyvyan's body when they'd been outside the bus, and at that time Vyvyan's complexion had been a closer color to the marks on his arms than the clammy white it was now. Rick supposed he hadn't noticed it because the color had been somewhat camouflaged. Either that or he was just incredibly insensitive. Either or. How had he gotten those marks, though?

_...Oh, of course._

Rick felt a sudden lurch of guilt in the pit of his stomach, which settled nicely with all the other unpleasant things he was already feeling there. The stupid bastard... Most likely, Vyvyan had gone and burned himself when he'd pulled Rick out of the bus wreckage. It _had_ been his fault they'd crashed in the first place, but even so, Rick never would have guessed the punk would've ever risked his life for him. The thought made him very uncomfortable.

He didn't buy the pathetic explanation Vyvyan had given for his doing it either. After all, if Rick was dead, he'd be unable to deny that the bank holdup had been all his idea. Alive, he could, and _would_ , and the other man must've known that. Besides, the concern Vyvyan had had in his voice as he called Rick awake had seemed a lot more... personal, somehow.

But hadn't Rick already established that it hadn't been aimed at him? Vyvyan had probably just been worried about his own stupid life. Even so... why had he saved him?

Rick wasn't left to ponder this question very long as, for the umpteenth time that day, his senses left him as he began to sink heavily into unconsciousness again. Admittedly, this probably had something to do with the nearby pig pumping the IV drip in his arm, sending an irresistible dose of anesthetic directly into his bloodstream. But he probably wouldn't have been able to stay awake much longer anyway, considering his recent track record. More relieved than he had time to consider, Rick settled back against his stretcher and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, second chapter! This one has a bit of pretty suggestive content, derived from a scene I'm sure many of us are familiar with. It may seem a bit sudden and out-of-place, but I promise that it's explained. I enjoyed writing this chapter way too much. XD As always, R&R are always appreciated! ^^

"Oh, so you've been going through my Y-fronts, have you, Vyvyan?! I suppose you _fancy_ me, is that it?!"

Sitting next to Mike at the table, Rick gave a nervous laugh at his own joke. It had sounded funny in his head, but out loud, it only made the whole situation even more uncomfortable. The idea of his revolting flatmate going through his belongings, especially his clothes, was disgusting enough without jokes.

Vyvyan, perched on the sofa on the other side of the room, gave Rick a look which, right then, seemed somewhere between disgust and panic. Then his face cleared, and he put on a vile, sarcastic grin.

"Yes!" he said. "As a matter of fact, I _do_ , Rick! I really, really fancy you! And I want to give you a big girly kiss on the bottom!"

Rick squirmed in his chair, struggling between the choices of vomiting copiously and running out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him. Desperately, he sought the attention of Mike, hoping to the god he didn't believe in that the short man might inject some sanity back into the conversation.

"Mike, Mike, Vyvyan's gone all funny! Ew, he says he wants to kiss my bottom!"

Vyvyan looked at Rick in mock-apology.

"Did I say 'kiss you on the bottom?' Oh, I beg your pardon. I meant to say, 'fuck your brains out until you scream like the girl you really are!'"

Rick didn't even have time to digest the full horror of what Vyvyan had just said before, the next thing he knew, the older man was on his lap, arms around his neck in a vice-like embrace. Rick's attempted scream was swallowed by Vyv's lips on his, pierced tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Still kissing him, Vyvyan pushed Rick off his chair and onto the floor. This caused their lips to separate for a split second, only for Vyvyan to crash his back into Rick's as he landed on top of him.

Rick tried to push him off, but Vyvyan had both his arms pinned with his own. He tried to kick and writhe, but Vyvyan had his full weight on his body right up to his face. He tried to call out to Mike and Neil for help, but his cries were muffled by Vyvyan's lips and tongue. Besides, the other two didn't seem to be in the room anymore. Aside from the fact that they both would've been reacting to what was happening in some way, even if that way was extremely unhelpful, Rick could just somehow feel that he and Vyv were alone.

Vyvyan didn't seem to care either way. He was kissing his flatmate with an intense furosity Rick had never seen from him before - not even when he was ranting about how much he hated _The Good Life_. And, even worse, after only a few seconds, Rick found himself responding, clumsily pushing his tongue up to meet Vyvyan's.

Despite what he'd told the other three, Rick had never kissed anyone before. He supposed he was doing a pretty good job, considering, although Vyvyan was doing it better. He must've had practice with someone, probably SPG. No human in their right mind would agree to kiss that ugly snot... except for him. He didn't know why he was even doing it. Surely he wasn't _that_ desperate!

Lips still glued to Rick's, Vyvyan moved his hold on Rick's arms to a one-handed grip over his head. Even then, Rick still couldn't break free, which made Vyvyan grin against his mouth. If he hadn't still been fighting for control with Rick's tongue, he probably would've laughed and called him a girl.

Rick wasn't sure what Vyvyan was doing with his now-free right hand, but he found out soon enough when his fingers began unceremoniously groping at Rick's dungarees in the area between his legs.

_Oh, bloody hell..._

In some amazing maneuver known only to him, Vyvyan yanked off Rick's dungarees and threw them aside while simultaneously managing to keep his hold on his arms _and_ his lips on his. Damn... SPG or whoever he'd been practicing on had really taught him his stuff.

Eventually, Vyvyan pulled his mouth away from Rick's, but this wasn't much of a relief as he immediately moved down to suckle on his neck.

"Vyvy _AN_...!"

Rick had tried to sound stern and unimpressed, but his attempted tone petered out into a girly squeak on the last syllable as Vyvyan drove his teeth into his collarbone.

"Vyvyan, you bastard..." Rick mumbled, then involuntarily moaned as the other man, without warning, slid his free hand down his now-exposed Y-fronts. His roaming fingers caught around the half-formed erection beneath, then squeezed hard. Rick gasped and writhed again, only more in response to what Vyvyan had just done than because he was genuinely trying to get away from him.

Rick's thoughts went utterly blank as Vyvyan, biting and sucking his neck by turn, began to jerk him off. He let go of his arms and used his hand to trace an eratic path down Rick's chest. Even through the fabric of his shirt, the sociology student's spine prickled from the sensation. Rick raised his freed hands and brought them around Vyvyan, wrapping them around his back and shoulders. Vyv's nails suddenly dug into Rick's cock, and Rick cried out in a mixture of agony and elation, arching his back.

"There you go," Vyvyan said into Rick's neck. "Scream for me, girly."

"I hate you..." Rick said, but complied with his flatmate's request when Vyvyan began racing his fingers up and down his shaft.

Vyvyan went on pumping, and Rick went on screaming, for how long neither of them would ever know. Somewhere into the handjob, Rick began thrusting his body up against Vyvyan's, eventually meeting his strokes almost perfectly. Before long, his world began to go black at the corners, his ears ringing and his heart hammering in his chest, as the blissful feeling of release rapidly approached him.

The last thing Rick saw before he came was Vyvyan's face above his, lips somewhat red from where he'd drawn blood from his fellow student's neck. His stupid, ring-infested face was set in a triumphant grin as, gleefully, he drove Rick over the edge.

xxxxxxxxxx

Rick awake abruptly, his breath catching in his throat and his blood pounding. There was an all-too-familiar stickiness covering a good deal of the front of his body, as well as the sheets he was lying on.

_Oh, just bloody fantastic._

He lay still for several minutes, face burning as the contents of his dream slowly settled into his waking mind.

 _Just_ great _!_

Nine times out of ten, he could barely remember what his wet dreams were, and one of the few times he did, it just had to be about... For Cliff's sake, what was wrong with him?! Asleep or not, how had his ruddy brain ever gotten _'fuck your brains out until you scream like the girl you really are'_ from _'stick a pickaxe through your spinal column?'_ More to the point, why would it _want_ to interpret it like that?

Oh, well. The good thing about wet dreams was that, no matter how embarrassing they were, no one ever had to know their contents but you. Rick certainly wouldn't be telling anyone what he'd just dreamed about. Then again, it wasn't like having such a dream actually meant he'd really wanted... what he'd dreamed about. He'd learned in his sociology class the previous year that dreams were merely a mixed up reflection of one's subconscious. For example, if he'd been thinking in his waking hours about how much he hated Vyvyan and how much he loved Felicity Kendall, he could end up dreaming about hating Felicity Kendall, or...

He shuddered. It didn't matter. It didn't mean anything. It certainly didn't make him poofy, and it _certainly_ didn't mean he wanted to touch Vyvyan in any other way outside of ramming his skull through a few walls. Instinctively, Rick went to pull himself out of his bed so he could give his sheets and clothes a quick run-through under the bathroom taps before anyone saw them. It was only then that he realized someone had handcuffed his left wrist to his bed rail and fixed his bed to the floor.

"Vyvyan, you _bastard_..." Rick said, emulating his dream self far closer than he would've liked right then.

But really, Vyvyan had gone too far this time! Not only had he effectively trapped Rick in his room, he'd also felt the need to make his room look like a hospital bed, change him into a hospital gown, cover most of his right side with bandages, and...

_Oh, wait..._

Memories of their bus's eventful free-fall down the cliff flooded suddenly back into his head, and Rick groaned in dismay.

A life of crime may very well be anarchistic, but it wasn't something he wanted if it meant spending any time in jail. As he'd told his flatmates time and time again, someone as pretty as himself was bound to get raped in prison. The bum-poking criminals just wouldn't be able to keep their hands off his beautiful body.

Rick pounded his free fist on the wall several times, satisfied at the semi-loud bangs this drew. He wanted to get someone's attention so he could find a phone and hire himself a good lawyer. Daddy had a lot of money, and... Rick swallowed the sudden lump that came into his throat, his fist slackening against the wall behind him.

Luckily, before he could get to thinking about his dead parents too much, he was interrupted by a man walking into his hospital room. Whether he'd come in response to Rick's pounding or on his own wasn't certain, but it didn't really matter. He was wearing a chief of police uniform, holding a notebook and looking very busy. Subconsciously, Rick pulled the bed sheets up around his chest with his free hand, not wanting the pig to see the results of his wet dream.

"It was Neil's idea!" Rick said automatically, completely forgetting about his plan to phone a lawyer.

The policeman ignored him, examining his notebook. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Do you know a... Mr. Balowski?" he asked, looking up from his notes. Rick stared at him, confused.

"Um... yes," he said, hesitantly. "He's our landlord. Or, he was. He kicked us out yesterday because he's a sadistic bastard."

The pig nodded, looking unsurprised.

"And this Balowski was the one responsible for the bank job that occurred early this morning, right?"

"Wh-What?" Rick caught himself and seized quickly on the excuse. He wasn't fond of Neil, but if he'd much rather pin a crime on that psychotic landlord than his own flatmate. "Uh, I mean, yes! Yes! It was all his idea! He blackmailed us into holding up the bank! He threatened to kill... Vyvyan's hamster! Yes! He said he'd kill Vyvyan's hamster if we didn't do what he said! A-And then he did it anyway! He crushed Vyvyan's hamster on his car's radiator! Oh, it was awful!"

Rick put his face into his un-handcuffed hand and pretended to sob hysterically, much as Vyvyan had done for real when his hamster had actually been crushed against his radiator. Sure, that had been Vyvyan's stupid driving and nothing to do with Balowski, but then again, they wouldn't have even been _in_ the car if it weren't for that man. So, by that logic, the bank job _had_ been all Balowski's fault. What luck that a stupid pig saw that too!

Rick peered through his fingers and lack of tears to see the cop nodding again, still looking very unsurprised.

"I thought so. That's what all your accomplices said as well. Well, first they tried to pin it on you or that smelly hippy, but after I mentioned Mr. Balowski and told them they didn't have to lie anymore, they were quick to tell the truth."

"Right..." Rick said, making a mental note to kick the other three later for trying to pin the whole thing on him. He did have to wonder whom out of him and Neil they'd tried to sell out first. Actually, no, he didn't. Obviously they'd blamed Neil first and only turned on him as a last resort. Yes...

"Well, that clears it up, then," the pig said. "Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir. We've been after this Balowski fellow for a long time."

"You have?"

"Yes. He's been holding up banks for a good ten years now, and he's always managed to slip away before we could arrest him. It was partly thanks to you all that we finally caught him a few hours ago. We found one of his business cards in that violent punk's pocket. We managed to piece the rest together from there. We found him stomping around outside a set of flats in the suburbs and singing a drunken rendition of _Tangled Up in Blue_. Pretty stupid of him not to use a different name for his renting business, actually."

"And pretty stupid of you not to be able to find him for ten years if he never changed his name," Rick said.

"Guilty as charged," the pig said, grinning sheepishly. "I really am sorry about all this, sir. My colleagues and I have seized all of Balowski's assets, and you'll all be released without charges. You might also be able to sue Balowski's estate for damages in blackmailing you."

"Can we have our old flat back? The one we were all kicked out of?"

"I don't see why not. In fact, if you and your friends promise not to go after my squad for wrongful arrest charges, I might even be able to set you up in there tonight."

"Brilliant!"

Considering he and his flatmates hadn't been wrongfully arrested at all, this was certainly turning out a lot better than he had expected. Not only were they going to get off scot-free, they were also going to get their old flat back! _And_ that stupid sod Balowski was finally going to be locked up where he belonged. Things could not have gone better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe! Yup, it was just a dream, that sexy Rick/Vyvyan scene. But don't worry; we'll get to the real thing soon enough! :D Nice to know Rick's (sort of) confronting any feelings he might have, I suppose. :3 As for pinning the whole bankjob on Mr. Balowski, I must admit that I enjoyed it. I really don't care for him in TYO, and I just always skipped his parts. I rarely found him funny or clever, so I really enjoyed getting a bit of 'revenge' in the form of writing. ;) Sorry if you like him, and please don't take it personally. I'm just a bit of a petty douche. XD


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the third chapter! I won't say much here because author's notes are boring, and I don't like writing too many of them. XD I will say that I enjoyed writing this chapter immensely. My inspriation from Lone Gunwoman of the Week's wonderful fanfic, Death, shines through most in this chapter, I think, as well as the next one. ^^

"This is, like, really heavy," Neil said to his flatmates.

He, Rick, Vyvyan and Mike were standing outside their old flat. All but Vyvyan had on new clothes. Vyvyan had opted to keep his old attire, burned as it was, because none of the clothes he'd seen at the shops had been to his liking. He and Rick were the only ones who'd been burned, although Neil had an impressive black eye from where Vyvyan had 'accidentally' hit him while trying to fight off the pigs.

Vyvyan was clutching a new cage in his arms, freshly purchased with some of Balowski's confiscated assets. Inside was an equally new hamster. SPG2, Vyvyan had lovingly dubbed him, in honor of the last one. Rick had been tempted to point out how pathetic and uncreative this name was, but hadn't in case the punk opted to change it to Cliff Richard, as he'd once done with SPG (I). Besides, after his psychologically-induced, nothing-to-do-with-fancying-Vyvyan, non-poofy wet dream, Rick was a little shy of talking to the older man. And, Rick supposed, the fact that Vyvyan had saved his life, even though it had certainly been accidental, meant he could give the guy a little leeway with his new hamster.

"What do you mean heavy, Neil? We got off completely scot-free, _and_ we got our old flat back!" Mike said. "Plus, Vyv got a new hamster, we all got a year's worth free membership at the local golf club, and we'll never have to worry about that psycho Balowski ever again. Things could not have gone better, if I do say so myself!"

"You just did, Michael," Vyvyan said, looking up from his new hamster for the first time since he'd bought it.

"Look, can we just go inside, please?" Rick said. "I'm rather tired, and I have some things I need to do."

"Yeah, like read your male body-building mags," Vyvyan said. Rick clenched his fists, knowing that him rising to the bait was just what his flatmate wanted but unable to help it.

"No, I have to call my relatives and sort out the details to my parents' funeral, _actually_ , Vyvyan."

"Oh." Vyvyan looked nonplussed for a moment, then grinned. "Well, best get all the reading out of the way now then, so your parents' ghosts don't find out what a girly poof you are at their funeral."

Rick wasn't even aware of jumping on him. All he knew was that, one minute, he and Vyvyan were standing apart, and the next, they were both on the ground, him on top, and that he was punching and kicking at the punk with everything he had. There was a white-hot rage burning somewhere in his chest, mixing with all the pent-up grief he'd had in there since first hearing about his parents' deaths.

He felt Vyvyan's shock as he jumped him, heard his sharp grunts of pain as his blows connected with various parts of his body. Both sensations brought Rick more satisfaction than he ever remembered feeling in his whole life. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neil groan and Mike, ignoring them all, fumbling for the keys to their reclaimed home. SPG2, in his cage from where it'd fallen after Vyvyan had been tackled, cheered and laughed as his new owner was beaten.

"Yeah! Attaboy, lad!" he called to Rick. "Smash that spotty wussy's face in!"

Rick would've loved to do just that, but alas, he'd never been able to stand up to Vyvyan in a fight for very long. Before he could get more than half a dozen hits or kicks in, Vyvyan had gotten out from under him and sprung to his feet. From there, he kicked out viciously at the fallen sociology student with his spiked boots, again and again, until Rick was sure his very insides had to be bleeding. Never one for dignity, and his newly-flared anger gone as suddenly as it had come, Rick curled up in the fetal position and lay still, whimpering, as Vyvyan continued kicking him.

It felt like hours later when the kicks stopped, and even longer when the loud squelch of what was probably hamster against boot rang out. Rick didn't bother moving straight away. His adrenaline had been the only thing keeping him upright after Vyvyan's taunt, and now that it was gone, all that remained was blinding agony - both physical and mental.

Eventually, he managed to uncurl himself enough to look around at his surroundings. It was just past sunset, so he couldn't have been out here for long; it'd only been late evening when they'd gotten back to the flat. Making an enormous effort, he picked himself up off the pavement - his bruised and burned body screamed in protest - and plodded painfully into the flat. They had at least been kind enough to leave the door unlocked for him. Rick certainly wouldn't have put it past Vyvyan to lock him out. Maybe he'd decided against it so that Rick could get the details of his parents' funeral sorted out faster. After all, the sooner he did that, the sooner he'd be out of their hair for a day or so.

He walked towards the kitchen, seeking an icepack for some of his bruised ribs. He was relieved to see that Vyvyan wasn't anywhere to be seen, although the others were. SPG2, looking remarkably two-dimensional, was sulking in his cage in a corner. Neil was preparing a celebratory lentil cake in the kitchen, and Mike was babbling excitedly to someone on the telephone in the entrance hall.

"Yeah, completely scot-free! I know! Yeah, it's fantastic! _And_ we got £500 in compensation from Balowski's assets! We're having a party here tonight, booze and music provided. Sure, baby, bring whoever you want. The more, the merrier! And if you can't find your underwear, don't worry, you can just come without it. Oh, you can? Well, all right. But keep what I said in mind. All right. Bye, then!"

Mike hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen, massaging the back of his neck with one hand. He caught sight of Rick, rummaging in the fridge, and gave him a lopsided half-smile.

"Decided to join us, have you, Rick? I was starting to worry that Vyvyan might've killed you."

Rick, unable to find an icepack, moodily snatched out a packet of frozen peas. He touched it to his burned _and_ bruised right side, groaned, then glared at the short man.

"Obviously he _didn't_ , Mike. Not that you'd care if he did. No one ever cares about me, or listens to anything I say, or - "

"How's that lentil cake coming along, Neil?" Mike said, pushing past Rick.

"Um... it's coming along, Mike, but, like... don't you think we should use, like... some sugar or, like, milk, or..."

"Don't be stupid, Neil. If we put milk or sugar in the cake, there won't be any left for the tea. Where _is_ the tea, by the way?"

"All right, all right! Mike, I can, like, only do one thing at a time, right? Which is more than anyone else ever does because I'm the only one who bothers to cook around here..."

Mike ignored this and went back to the entrance hall, probably seeking the phone again. Unwilling to deal with either of them, Rick took his frozen peas and stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, seeking refuge in his bedroom. With Mike hogging the phone, and the promise of a soon-to-be wild piss-up lingering, he wasn't likely to get any peace to talk to his relatives that night. Besides, it was getting late. He'd just have to call them tomorrow, if the house was still standing.

Rick supposed the sight of Vyvyan in his bedroom, going through his collection of magazines, shouldn't have been that surprising to him. The bastard went into his room all the time, usually to break or steal something - or hit him. But still, after the merciless kicking Vyvyan had given him only a few minutes before, coming into his room now was pretty low.

"Vyvyan, get out," Rick said, voice trembling slightly. Vyvyan looked up, the expression of glee on his face melting away almost instantly when he caught sight of Rick's face.

"I was just finding evidence to confirm your love of men," he said. The grin slipped onto his face again, and he held up a magazine for girls' dresses. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind, but when you have a magazine on what women wear instead of women themselves, that's not usually a good sign."

"Vyvyan, get _out_!"

Rick dropped the packet of frozen peas to the floor and took a step forward, his fingers twitching as he held them out towards the punk's throat.

xxxxxxxxxx

_This could not have gone better,_ Vyvyan thought as he effortlessly felled Rick to the floor with a single, smart blow to the front of his chin. _Now I even have the excuse of self-defense. If I hadn't hit him first, he would've started pinching me, or something._

Delighted at his luck, Vyvyan followed Rick down onto the floor and settled himself comfortably on top of him, using his knees to pin the sociology student's arms just above the elbows. Rick regained his senses a second later and began flailing and squeeling like an hysterical girl - which he was. Vyvyan grinned and put his full weight into keeping Rick down with his body. Rick yelped in pain, probably because his flatmate was sitting on parts of him he'd only recently kicked the stuffing out of. All the same, he seemed to realize all too quickly that he was fighting a losing battle and stopped struggling shortly after.

_You just have to take all the fun out of everything, don't you, sissy?_

Vyvyan kept his grip on Rick, more for the fun of it than because he was worried releasing him would prove dangerous to his health. Rick glared up at him, such hatred in his eyes that it almost made the punk cow. Vyvyan expected this to be accompanied by some sort of rant about fascism and Thatcher, but instead, Rick only opened his mouth, hocked up a huge gob of saliva, and spat it directly into Vyv's face.

Automatically, Vyvyan brought the back of his right hand down across Rick's face. He hit him as hard as he could, then, enjoying the feeling of that so much, did it three more times. When he drew back his hand, Rick's cheeks were already puffy and swelling, a little bit of blood running down one from where Vyvyan's nails had cut him.

_Perfect._

Vyvyan wiped the spit off his face. Disgusting little weasel. He'd pay for that. After he'd gone to all the trouble of saving his stupid life, too. There was gratitude for you.

Vyvyan wasn't completely aware of taking the carving knife out from his jacket. The pigs had at least returned it to him after they'd been released, although they'd first asked a bunch of annoying questions to which Vyvyan had had to answer with lies. _"Oh, that's my mum's cutting knife. I'm just holding onto it for her. No, no, I'd never use it on a person!"_ By the time Vyvyan fully realized what he was doing, he was already pressing the knife to one of Rick's swelled cheeks, using his other hand to hold him in place by the neck.

He wasn't really going to kill the idiot, of course. Not even Rick deserved that, and, all threats aside, Vyvyan doubted he'd ever really be able to. But he _was_ going to make him piss himself, scream and cry for mercy. And maybe, if he was feeling generous, he might even cut him a little. Not too much, just enough to give him something to think about next time he looked at his stupid, poofy face in the mirror.

But Rick didn't piss himself, or scream, or cry for mercy. Instead, he looked at Vyvyan through a layer of hate-filled venom. There was no fear in his expression whatsoever.

"Go on, then," he said. His voice was much quieter than Vyvyan had ever heard him use. "Do it. Do it!"

His voice rose in a shrill scream, and he spat again. This gob wasn't nearly as impressive as the last one, though it _did_ have blood in it. Vyvyan swallowed his shock and grabbed Rick by his girly pigtails, yanking his head back so that his neck was completely exposed. He pressed the tip of his knife into the soft skin of Rick's throat, just above his Adam's apple. Almost desperately, he waited for him to start blubbing and begging for his forgiveness. But all Rick did was keep screaming up at him.

"Do it, you spineless bastard! Fucking _do_ it! You stupid, fucking, useless, fucking, stupid, useless, fucking, fucking..."

His voice broke, and he started to cry, his shoulders shaking. Vyvyan could _feel_ them shaking all the way from his elbows. He'd wanted this, sort of, but he was too shocked by Rick's spontaneous, out-of-character cursing to take much pleasure in it. Besides, the anarchist's sobs seemed closer to despaired than terrified. Of course, despair from Rick usually would've satisfied Vyvyan just fine, but there was something about it now that just... didn't sit right.

Dumbly, Vyvyan let go of Rick's hair and let his head fall back forward. He dropped the knife onto the carpet beside them, suddenly feeling no desire to be touching it. Rick barely seemed to notice. Eyes closed, he was howling like a baby, tears leaking out from his eyelids and mingling with the small amount of blood on his face. His whole body was shaking now, not just his shoulders, so much so that Vyvyan was literally being jerked up and down on top of him.

"You stupid, worthless fascist..." Rick got out between heaving breaths. "Why did you... Why did you have to pull me out of that bus? Why couldn't you have just... let me die? I _saw_ them. They were _waiting_ for me. Mummy and Daddy were..."

His voice trailed off, and his hysterical crying quickly died down into much quieter, but still very much audible, sobs. Vyvyan stared down at him, confusion and disgust mixing with reluctant pity. _Of course._ The stupid sod's parents had just died. How could he have forgotten? He'd only made a joke about them a few minutes ago, before Rick had tackled him in a fit of rage. Vyvyan had taken it for granted that the selfish wimp would actually be _grieving_ , especially since Vyvyan's only planned reaction for when his own mum died was throwing a giant party.

"I hate you," Rick said, still sobbing. "I hate you, and you hate me. So why... why did you have to save me? I..."

His words broke off as Vyvyan reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. Disgusting action, he knew, considering the damned wuss's face was now covered in tears and snot. How the latter had even gotten on his cheek in the first place was a mystery Vyvyan didn't ever want to find out the answer to. _Why_ he was feeling sorry for this pathetic bastard was something he wanted to know even less.

"Calm down, you sissy girl," he said, much more gently than he'd intended.

He took his weight off Rick's body and slid off onto the carpet next to him. Unfortunately, he slid right onto the knife he'd discarded earlier. He yelped, more in annoyance than pain, and kneed the knife aside. He felt blood running down his left knee but ignored it. He was no stranger to physical pain, both from his time in this house, and the years he'd spent with his mum and her endless numbers of abusive boyfriends.

He'd planned to pull Rick upright and maybe, if he was feeling insane enough, even give him a few comforting pats on the back. Instead, to Vyvyan's horror, the moment Rick realized he was free, he sprang up and dived at Vyvyan. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd been diving at him to attack him again. But, no. Instead, he was clutching onto Vyv in a bone-breaking embrace, burying his head into his chest and soaking his favorite jacket with snot and tears.

_Great. Wasn't it enough that you made me_ burn _it, you poofy little knob-end?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELL YES, HURT AND COMFORT. OMG, I cannot even begin to tell you how much I love hurt and comfort. It's the most amazing thing on the face of the earth, I swear. Sorry to break it off here, but the next chapter won't be long. I hope I was able to keep Rick mostly IC here, despite his sudden... well, emo behavior. I do realize that writing a grieving Rick and keeping him IC at the same time is very difficult, given how selfish the bastard is. XD Any tips on that (and writing in general) are always welcome! Thanks for reading. :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, fourth chapter! Sorry that took a bit longer than expected. RL has been a bit of an asshole lately. I also hate writing author's notes, for some reason. Why I keep putting them in is anyone's guess. Consistency, I guess. XD This chapter contains a long talk between Rick and Vyv, alcohol and... maybe something more? You'll see when you- Wait, come back! Don't skip to the end of the chapter, you douches! :O (Enjoy. XD)

They sat there for what must've been a very long time, Vyvyan holding Rick awkwardly in his arms as the younger man cried into his jacket like a bawling child. He'd never been that great at comforting people, nor did anyone come to him for that purpose very often. Usually Vyvyan was the one _causing_ people to cry, not trying to get them to stop. He didn't even know why he was trying to now; Rick crying was one of the most beautiful things in the world to him. Getting him to react to his baiting enough to reduce him to tears was just about the greatest prize Vyvyan could hope for when he started on him. Only...

Only this wasn't fun. Rick acting so unlike himself, _caring_ about people who weren't himself or Cliff Richard, was just uncomfortable. And his sobbing into the punk's chest, clutching against him as though he were some kind of lifeline, just felt... wrong. It made Vyvyan feel _sorry_ for him, and he hated that. He'd learned long ago, through endless manipulation from his mother and various foster parents, that pity was only a weakness that people could use against you. You were better off not feeling things like that. Love, empathy, pity... they could all be felt and turned on you so easily. Better just to discard the worthless emotions altogether.

But _knowing_ that pushing Rick away and kicking his stupid head in was the right thing to do was a lot easier than actually _doing_ it. So he just sat there, letting the worthless sissy bury his beautiful jacket in tears, snot and even a little blood. He could make him foot the bill for cleaning it later. Right now, it was a lot easier to just hold him, roughly running a hand over his girly hair every now and then, than it was to do anything else.

Loud music and shouts had begun to emanate from downstairs before Rick's sobs finally died down enough so that he was no longer shaking the two of them like a pair of maracas. To Vyvyan's surprise and relief, it was Rick who pulled away first; he'd been worrying about how he was going to extricate himself from the stupid git without throwing him into another crying fit. Vyvyan hurriedly released him, and Rick sat back against the closest wall. This put him practically shoulder to shoulder with his flatmate, who'd been resting against the same wall for some time now, but Vyvyan wasn't complaining. It was a lot better than the position they'd been in before.

"Have you got a cigarette?" was the first thing Rick said after he'd calmed down a little.

Vyvyan sighed and reached into his jacket and pulled out his lighter and a pack of smokes. He lit two and handed one to Rick, pushing the other between his own teeth and pulling.

"Thanks, Vyv."

Vyvyan shifted, feeling his shoulder brush against his fellow student's. Unlike Neil and Mike, Rick didn't call him 'Vyv' very often, and for some reason it made Vyvyan uncomfortable when he did. Still, at least he wasn't bawling anymore. He still had tears in his eyes, and he did give the occasional sniffle or stifled sob, but it was obvious he was feeling a lot better. Crying like a girl into another man's arms must have been somehow theraputic for him. God knew why.

Vyvyan finished his cigarette before Rick, who as usual was smoking with his trademark girly delicacy. Vyv ashed his out on the wall, disappointed when Rick didn't snap at him for it. Calmed by the nicotine, Vyvyan stood up, wondering if he could get away with just walking out and leaving the anarchist sitting there.

"Vyvyan, where are you going?"

_Nope._

Vyvyan suppressed a sigh, trying to ignore the sudden panic in Rick's voice.

"I'm just going to get some vodka from my room," he said as he walked out. "I'm worried some of Mike's friends'll nick it." _And if I'm going to be spending a long period of time with you without hitting you with something, I'll bloody need it._

xxxxxxxxxx

Vyvyan took several minutes to collect the vodka, despite his room only being across the hall. Rick waited as patiently as he could, trying to fight the urge to get up and follow him. It wasn't that he wanted to be with him, really. It was just that being alone made it a whole lot harder not to think of his parents.

He'd finished his cigarette by the time Vyvyan came back in, staggering slightly and holding a full bottle of vodka. He shut and bolted the door behind him before coming over to Rick. On the way, he snatched up the discarded packet of frozen peas, tossing it onto his flatmate's lap as he sat down next to him.

"You took your time," Rick said. He tried not to sound too snappy or ungrateful. He didn't want to drive his only companion away.

Tentatively, he touched the frozen packet to one of his swollen cheeks. An involuntary whimper slid out between his lips as his skin briefly protested at the contact, before numbing enough to become almost soothing.

"I had an open bottle in my room," Vyvyan said, staring straight ahead. His voice was slurry, and he was sagging somewhat against the wall. "I had to finish it in case anyone saw it."

"How much was in there?" Rick asked, dreading the answer.

"Only about a third. Not even enough for one person."

"Right..." Rick bit back his sarcastic retort and gently took the unopened bottle from Vyvyan's arms.

"Don't you dare drink all of that, ploppy," Vyvyan said. "If you have more than half, you're paying."

Rick raised his eyebrows. This was oddly generous for Vyvyan. Normally, taking even one glass of his alcohol meant you had to foot the bill for at least half - if you were _lucky_. Then again, one glass obviously translated to a lot more in Vyvyan's mind than it did to civilized people.

Not really thinking, Rick opened the bottle and took a long swig. He stopped only when the vile taste threatened to make him gag. When he drew back, he was surprised to see he'd drunk at least a small glass's worth. Some mostly buried rational voice in the back of his head was trying to tell him that he shouldn't be drinking right now, that he'd regret it, but he ignored it. Where had his stupid rational voice been when he'd been sobbing into the chest of a sadistic maniac?

"Stop hogging it," Vyvyan said, taking the bottle out of Rick's hands and drinking heavily. By the time he lowered it again, the bottle was only three-quarters full.

"Go easy on it," Rick said disapprovingly. "You've already been to the hospital once today. I doubt they'll want you back."

Vyvyan's eyes suddenly lit up.

"Oh, yeah! That reminds me, did you get any pills from the hospital? You know, for your burns?"

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, reached again into his jacket and took out a small container filled with white capsules. Grinning, he opened it and popped two of them into his mouth.

"I've never mixed co-codamol with vodka before," he said, putting the rest of the tablets away. Rick hadn't completely realized what Vyvyan was doing until after he'd swallowed the pills.

"Vyvyan, you _idiot_! You're not supposed to do that!" His voice rose in a shrill, panicked squeak. "You need to throw those back up right _now_ , young man! I am _not_ driving you to the hospital when I've been drinking, _especially_ not in that stupid car of yours!"

Vyvyan looked affronted.

"Don't insult my car! Besides, it's still in the shop. _And_ I wouldn't let you drive it, even if my life depended on it."

"Which it very well might if you don't spit those pills back up this _instant_!"

"Oh, _shut up_ , you girl. They _told_ me to take two of these before I go to bed. I'm only doing what the doctors recommended!"

"You're not supposed to mix them with alcohol!" Rick was almost beside himself. "In fact, I'm pretty sure there's a warning about that on the back of the bottle! And - "

He was interrupted as Vyvyan literally shoved the bottle of alcohol under his chin, right up against his mouth.

"Shut up before I kill you," he said. "I can look after myself, unlike you. Now be quiet and have some more vodka."

For a moment, Rick considered refusing, but he was worried doing so might lead to another fight. Usually he got a sick sort of satisfaction from fighting with Vyvyan, even though he almost always came out the loser, but right now he just didn't have the energy. So obediently, he took another long drink from the bottle. It was just lucky he hadn't taken his tablets yet. When he thought about it, he supposed two wouldn't hurt that much with vodka, although he doubted Vyv would be feeling that great in the morning.

When he lowered the bottle and handed it back to Vyvyan, Rick's hand brushed briefly against his bandaged arm. Vyvyan barely seemed to notice, more absorbed in his beloved vodka, but Rick couldn't help recoiling slightly. The unsettling feeling of guilt he'd felt in their shared ambulance ride struck him again, even as the alcohol quickly began to seep into his bloodstream and cloud his brain.

"Vyvyan," he said hesitantly, "how, um... how bad are your burns, exactly?"

Vyvyan, chugging blissfully on his vodka, seemed to take a moment to register the question. He shrugged.

"Not too bad. Not as bad as yours. They stung a bit on the way back home, but they're a lot better now."

Rick swallowed. He knew he'd never even consider saying what he was thinking of saying now if he hadn't just downed so much alcohol.

"Thank you... f-for saving me. Really."

Vyvyan half-choked on his vodka and stared at Rick incredulously.

"Did you just _thank_ me, Rick? Are you... Are you feeling all right?"

"Oh, _very_ clever, Vyvyan! I hardly think..." Rick paused for a moment, wincing as his last mouthfuls of vodka threatened to come back up. He managed to keep them down, but only just. He shook his head a few times before continuing. "I hardly think this is the time to make snide remarks like that. You didn't have to save me, but - "

"Yes, I did!" Vyvyan looked indignent. "You were fainted like a little girl in the back of the van! If I hadn't grabbed you - "

"Don't be so sexist, Vyvyan! And besides, I didn't mean it like that."

Rick made sure to keep his eyes straight ahead, knowing that, alcohol or not, he'd lose his nerve if he saw that punk's stupid face now.

"I... I meant that you... you didn't have to do it. You risked your life, and... and I know it was _your_ stupid fault in the first place - we never would've gone over that cliff if you'd just let _me_ drive - but that's not the point. You could've been killed, saving me. But you still..."

"Right, that's enough, Rick. Keep talking, and I'm going to vomit on you. Then kill you. Then vomit on you again."

Vyvyan sounded more impatient than he did embarrassed, but there _was_ embarrassment there. He wasn't the only one. Relieved, Rick dropped the subject at once.

"All right," he said. He turned to face him, grinning. Probably thanks to the alcohol, he wasn't so bothered by their proximity anymore, or by the fact that he and Vyvyan's faces were barely a foot apart. "I won't mention it anymore."

Vyvyan returned his smile and took another gulp of vodka.

"If you're really grateful, you can do my laundry for the next month."

"Oh _God_ , Vyvyan. You'd have had to have saved my life at _least_ three times for me to agree to go anywhere _near_ your laundry."

"Fair enough."

Vyvyan held the bottle out to him again. Rick began to shake his head, but Vyvyan thrust the bottle into his lap before he could protest. Rick sighed. Arguing about it would probably be far more effort than just agreeing to drink a little more. He drank a little more.

"It's a party, after all. A bloody awful party, but still a party," Vyv said, taking the bottle back. It was now over two-thirds empty, and Rick's head was definitely swimming.

"We're going to regret this in the morning, you know," he said.

"Oh, you _always_ say that, and then you get drunk anyway. Why don't you - "

Vyvyan broke off suddenly as Rick, who'd just pressed his makeshift icepack to his other cheek, let out a low groan of pain. Rick tried to cover it up by turning the sound into a rather pathetic imitation of a cough, but it was no use. He sighed again, bracing himself for the collage of insults he knew Vyvyan would throw at him.

But Vyvyan _didn't_ throw any insults at him. Instead, he looked at Rick with an expression that, for a moment, he didn't recognize. Was that... _guilt_?

Vyvyan quickly lowered his eyes to his bottle. He seemed almost... humbled. That was a side of the punk that Rick was not used to, and it was unsettling. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them, dragging on as the long seconds passed.

Vyvyan reached down and carelessly ran a hand over his left knee, which, for the first time, Rick saw was bleeding. Good Cliff, how had he not noticed _that_ until now? The wound didn't look that deep, but it was still leaking blood all over Rick's floor, not to mention the hand Vyvyan was using to fiddle with it. Before Rick could open his mouth to tell him off though, Vyvyan spoke, still not looking at him.

"Bloody hurts, doesn't it? Being burned, I mean."

"What, you mean that's a burn?" Rick asked. "Blimey, do they usually... b-bleed like that?"

"No, you stupid wimp. I was just making conversation. The cut's 'cause I sat on my knife, when you were sniveling like a poof."

Rick felt his temper begin to flare, even through the haze of alcohol.

"Well, that was your _own_ fault, wasn't it, Vyvyan? Civilized people don't threaten others with knives, or-or kick them, or trespass in their rooms, or hit them, or - "

"Spit in their faces?" Vyvyan suggested.

"You're lucky that's all I did!"

"That's all you _could_ do! I had you pinned!"

"Only because you took me by surprise, Vyvyan!"

"Oh, come off it, Rick! I always win with you. And don't say it's 'cause you never try! You _always_ do! That's why I love going after you; Neil never fights back, he just takes it lying down like a stupid hippy."

Rick started at this. He was perfectly aware that Vyvyan was saying things he'd never be saying if he hadn't had a few pints of vodka - and a few co-codamol tablets. He was also perfectly aware, despite his own lightheadedness, that he was liable to do the same thing. Especially since all he usually drank was very weak alcoholic cider... Still, he couldn't make himself shut up.

"I... I thought you go after me because you hate me," Rick said. His voice was lower than he'd planned, and he coughed. The words sounded even more wussy in a softer tone.

Vyvyan stopped rubbing his knee-wound and stared at him. A second later, he'd given Rick a rough clap over the back of the head.

"You stupid bastard," he said simply as Rick rubbed the place he'd just hit. "I go after you because you always react in such a bloody hilarious way. I hate you because you're a spineless, girly, spoiled, self-absorbed little git. One doesn't have anything to do with the other!"

"Oh."

Rick lowered his head. For a moment, he'd been almost certain Vyvyan was going to say he _didn't_ hate him, that he only picked on him because he could. But that would've been a complete lie, and if there was one thing Vyv was, it was honest.

"Don't you 'oh' me, matey! You're making it sound like you're the only one I hate! I hate _everyone_! People are so bloody nauseating! That's why I want to be a surgeon. I get to legally cut up all the people I want!"

Rick shifted uneasily, still rubbing the back of his head.

"Is that really true, Vyvyan? Is that really why you want to become a surgeon?" He'd always known he was sadistic, but this seemed a bit much, even for him.

"You decide that for yourself," Vyvyan said, drinking from the bottle again. "Read up on me in a few years and see how many people I've cut apart."

"Oh, does that mean you'll be retaking your exams, then?" Rick asked, eager for a new topic. Vyv shrugged.

"'S'pose. Not really much else I can do, is there? I'll lose my grant if I don't, and I'll be buggered if I get a job at the moment."

Rick didn't answer. As someone who'd always had parents who were all too happy to support him, he couldn't really place himself in Vyvyan's position. Sure, there'd been times when he'd been just as strapped for money as his flatmates, but that'd only been because he'd had too much pride to ask his father for extra money. Daddy would've given it to him, but he'd always had a way of making Rick feel ashamed and lazy for asking. The point was, he'd never had to rely on grants, and he likely never would. He knew his parents had left almost everything to him too, and that they'd had a lot. This, of course, meant that he was now very rich. As much as he disliked Vyvyan, he didn't feel he had the right to discuss money problems with him.

"I could've passed the exam if I'd actually tried," Vyvyan went on. He lowered the now-empty vodka bottle to the floor. Including the bit he'd drunk in his room, he must've had at least a full bottle in the last fifteen minutes. If Rick wasn't so busy still feeling the effects of what he'd drunk, he would've marveled, not for the first time, at the fact that Vyvyan was still alive.

"You didn't try, Vyvyan?"

Rick would never admit it out loud, but this wouldn't have surprised him. Vyvyan was stupid in just about every way, but he _did_ know what he was doing when it came to medical stuff. And he was so lazy, it wasn't hard to picture him spending an entire exam playing with a carving knife or reading dirty magazines. This annoyed Rick, because he'd tried his bloody arse off in his exams. He'd even put in a little revision the night before. In fact, he'd thought he'd done quite well, as he hadn't been at all shy of telling his fellow students. But no, Dr. Morrisson had failed him, the bastard. And Rick had thought he was his friend...

"No, I didn't _try_ , bumb-face," Vyvyan said. "What do you take me for, a _nerdy_?! No one cool passes exams the first time. A lot of us don't even pass the second time! None of my friends passed."

Rick sighed.

"All my friends passed. If I go back next term, I'll have to make more, I suppose." He doubted any of the few friends he'd managed to make in the university would want much to do with him now they'd graduated, especially since he was just the spotty loser who'd failed his major.

"Well, you'll have Michael and Neil."

"That's bloody _brilliant_ , isn't it?"

"And me. You'll have me."

Rick was so shocked, he almost toppled sideways into Vyvyan. Thank God he didn't. That would've made things even more awkward.

"You, Vyvyan? _You_?! Since when are _we_ friends?!"

Vyvyan didn't seem fazed.

"Well, we've known each other for almost three years, haven't we? Ruddy awful three years, but still. You can't really share a house with someone for so long and not grow to like them a _little_ bit."

Did vodka make you mishear things? Had they slipped Rick some powerful, hallucinogenic drug at the hospital? Or had Vyvyan really just...

"Don't get me wrong," the punk said quickly, as though reading Rick's thoughts. "I still hate you. But I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't miss you a bit if you weren't here."

Rick shook his head dazedly, wondering if a full bottle of alcohol could give someone a complete personality-overhaul. If it could, maybe he'd have to see to it that Vyv drank that much more often. He was still insufferable, but Rick had to admit, hearing him say he'd actually miss his company was strangely comforting. It made a nice change to the things he usually said to him.

"Well... thank you, Vyvyan," he said awkwardly after a short pause. "Um... I guess I'd also miss - "

"Bloody hell, it's a shame all that money we stole burned up, isn't it?" Vyvyan said, in one of the most pathetic and non-subtle attempts at changing the subject in the history of the world. That didn't matter, though. If he wanted to talk about something else, Rick certainly wasn't going to complain. No, he was all too happy to play along.

"Yes, it is. But at least we got a bit from Balowski."

"Yeah, but it'll be gone in a few days. Mike says he wants to throw a load of parties," Vyvyan said. He pulled out another cigarette, lit up and began smoking it. He didn't offer Rick one, probably because he thought he'd given him enough.

"Well, we did get our flat back as well," Rick said. "That's more than I expected at the start of today."

"That's true, I suppose."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, almost shoulder to shoulder, as Vyvyan finished his smoke. Rick was beginning to feel drowsy, but he was afraid to go to sleep. Or, no, that wasn't entirely true. More, he was afraid to be left alone. Right now, even Vyvyan was better than no one. If he left...

"Rick..." Vyvyan said suddenly, ashing out his cigarette on the same wall he'd used earlier.

He sounded as tired as Rick felt, but beneath that, there was something else too. It was like whatever had been in his voice when he'd called Rick's name just outside the bus. Being quite drunk, Rick couldn't name the tone right now, but he did know it was one Vyvyan didn't use often.

Rick turned his head to face him, just in time to meet Vyvyan's eyes as he did the same. That might've been uncomfortable, even with all the alcohol they'd had, but it didn't last. For better or worse, it didn't last.

The feeling of Vyvyan's lips on his, pierced tongue pushing into his mouth, should've been more of a shock to Rick than it was. No matter how much he'd had to drink... even if he'd drunk all the alcohol in the world and mixed it with every other drug there was... even then, what Vyv was doing still should have made Rick pull away, jump up and kick the living daylights out of him.

Instead, Rick only whimpered - just like a girl, Vyvyan would've said, if he wasn't so busy kissing him - and raised his hands to the other man's shoulders. Vyvyan responded by slipping his arms under Rick's and holding him around the back without breaking their lip-contact.

The last thing Rick thought before his flatmate pushed him onto his back and settled himself on top of him again was, _'Well, now I'm snogging with Vyvyan. Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, kissing! :O Didn't take you long, did it, guys? Alcohol sure is a great plot device - if you can call these two guys making out a 'plot.' Whatever it is, I enjoy it way too much. ;D Sorry to cut the chapter off here, but look how lengthy it was getting! OMG, these guys never wanted to shut up! Sorry if it dragged on a bit. Don't worry, because there'll be some serious hotness in the next chapter (I hope XD). These guys are going to be the death of me, I swear... Note: I don't know if co-codamol existed in the early 80's. If not, let's just pretend it did. *Lazy* XD Also, I know that Rick mentions grants in one episode, but I liked the idea of him being such a trust-fund baby, for some reason. He's such a spoiled little brat, after all. ^O^


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! It's been a while, but here is chapter five, finally. Before we get to that though, I must give a little tribute: I'm sure just about everyone here has heard what happened by now. Less than a week ago (as of this note), Rik Mayall passed away in his home in Barnes, London. His death was very sudden, and not all the details are known yet. Needless to say, Rik's passing was a huge and harsh shock to a lot of us. I used to laugh at people who cried over the deaths of celebrities they'd never met and likely never would meet (outside of conventions and whatnot), but now I completely understand; I bawled my eyes out when I heard. It really does feel like losing a friend, with how much of an influence he and his work have been to me in the last few months.
> 
> I never knew Rik, but his comedic genius and amazing writing will live on forever - or at least for a very long time. A very good friend of mine and fellow Rik and Rivyan fan, Storiesfromthebluebox, put it best: "I don't believe in forever, but I hope Rik Mayall will be remembered for a very long time, and more importantly: that he will be remembered in all the best ways." And Rik really will be remembered. On the day of his passing, because we Aussies are such British comedy-lovers, Rik was mentioned in every single news bulletin I saw (which was the only reason I watched the news, honestly). It was so heart-warming to see how one man touched and inspired so many people.
> 
> Like many of us, I've been very down these last few days over all this. Not that the pain of Rik's fans can compare to the pain of those who had the privilege to know Rik personally, but it's pointless to measure grief like a physical matter. We'll all deal with this in our own ways, talk about it to people in the same boat as us if we need to (and I know lots of us need to). I haven't written since the incident (this chapter was in my backup folder for writer's block-related emergencies), but I'm not going to let this stop me. Writing is what I love to do most, and I know Rik would agree more than anyone that you can't stop doing what you love, no matter what. So, whether it takes a few days or several months, I WILL get back to writing in the wonderful, whimsical world that Rik created.
> 
> I wish this chapter was something more touching and moving than... well, just straight porn - because that's pretty much what it is - but I dedicate it all the same to Rik Mayall and all the wonderful things he created. In fact, I hereby dedicate anything I write - TYO-universe or not, good or not - to Rik. It's the least I can do. I might write a more a proper article about all this at some point in the future, about my experiences with Rik's amazing work and how I almost busted my ribs laughing from watching him at times. But for now, I'm going to keep immersing myself in the awesomeness that is Rivyan. It's my therapist's job to hear about all my other grievances, not you guys'. XD
> 
> Sorry for all the rambling. I knew this note was going to be long even before I started it. ^^ I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I hope we'll all continue to remember Rik as the awesome, funny, crazy, articulate, amazing guy he was. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Rick was by no means superstitious, and even if he had been, he probably would've sooner discarded such beliefs before he'd say the dream he'd had with Vyvyan had been some sort of premonition. Even so, he had to admit that the current scenario was turning out eerily like that dream. Not that it had even been a dream; it had been a nightmare. But by that logic, wouldn't that also mean that what was happening now was also meant to be unpleasant?

Vyvyan's tongue ring felt like it was scraping away some of Rick's skin as it probed his mouth. His arms were holding him in a back-breaking hug. His fingers were pinching his skin through his new shirt. And, despite being pretty skinny, Vyvyan's weight on top of him was beginning to become painful, likely because it was putting pressure on Rick's recently tenderized ribs. Not to mention, his breath smelled so much like vodka - and painstripper and bleach - it was making the anarchist's head spin.

But it wasn't uncomfortable. By all accounts, it should've been. No amount of alcohol should've been able to make _this_ desirable. But it wasn't uncomfortable. Just like in his dream, Rick found himself responding to Vyvyan's kisses almost straight away, and just like in his dream, his cock was stiffening within minutes. Rick ran trembling hands slowly along Vyvyan's arms, fingers brushing up against the bandages. Remembering why they were there and what the punk had done for him somehow only made Rick want him more.

Eventually Vyvyan pulled away, breathing hard. His face had a little blood on it from where it had rubbed up against Rick's. He grinned stupidly down at his companion, who was practically panting, and touched a hand to one of his bruised cheeks. Rick could feel Vyvyan's erection digging into his leg and realized Vyv must be able to feel his too.

"You're getting a stiffy for me, you girly perv," Vyvyan said, stroking Rick's cheek.

"O-Oh, am I now? Well, l-look who's talking, Vyvyan. A-And just who started this in the first place, I should like to know?"

"You did. You were crying so much, I started to think you were a girl. Not the first time I have, 'course, but I think those pills are having an effect too."

"N-Not to mention that... that whole bottle of vodka you had, _hmmm_?"

"Now, _that_ , Rick, is the pot calling the kettle... a kettle."

"I d-don't think that's quite right, Vyvyan."

"Well, sod it."

Abruptly, Vyvyan sat up and started fumbling at his extra-torn, partially burned jacket. It wasn't until he'd completely gotten it and the shirt beneath off that Rick realized what was going on. Even then, he barely had time to open his mouth and say, "Now, who do you think _you're_ taking advantage of, young man?!" before Vyvyan was moving on to his clothes. Rick squealed as Vyv's rough fingers dug into his burned ( _and_ bruised) side and, instinctively, shoved him away. Vyvyan looked at him in a combination of anger and... _hurt_? - no, couldn't be that - anger and drunkenness.

"Be _careful_ with m-me, Vyvyan! I'm _gravely_ injured, you know! L-Let me do it myself..."

Rick sat up and, as carefully as his present condition allowed, started to pull off his shirt. Vyvyan's face brightened, and he leaned forward eagerly.

"Oh, so you _do_ want to, then? I thought you were being a spoil-sport, like you always are."

Rick got his shirt off and attempted to toss it in Vyvyan's face. It missed him by a good several feet.

"You throw like - "

"Yes, _yes_ , like a girl. I kn-know v-very well, Vyvyan. Y-You're so predict...predictable, aren't you?"

"And _you_ stutter a lot when you've got a hard-on," Vyvyan retorted, pushing himself down onto him again. Rick's head hit the floor hard, but the curse he opened his mouth to utter turned into a gasp as Vyvyan closed his lips around one of his nipples.

 _Oh... Oh,_ lord _..._

Rick arched his back and moaned, so loudly he was sure the party-goers must be able to hear him, even over all the music. He'd never imagined someone's mouth there could feel so _good_.

xxxxxxxxxx

Vyvyan grunted in frustration as Rick squirmed under him, mouth too full of nipple to tell him to stop acting so bloody stupid. Honestly, if this was how the poof was going to be over this, he hated to think what he'd do once he started being wanked off.

Rick's fingers were back on Vyv's bandaged arms again, attempting what seemed like a romantic massage but really only irritating the burns. He had to wonder what the git's obsession with that area was. Maybe thinking about how he'd been swept up by a handsome prince from inside a burning bus was getting him off. Best not tell him Vyvyan had _dragged_ him out, coughing like an asthmatic and swearing like a drunk sailor all the while... or that he wasn't a prince.

Absentmindedly, Vyvyan caressed Rick's stomach, making sure to avoid the bandages. Just because Rick got off on burns didn't mean he did. To his surprise - and, much as he'd never admit it, his distress - Vyvyan heard Rick give a low groan of pain as his fingers brushed over his abdomen. At least, he was pretty sure it was a groan of pain. He supposed it could've been pleasure. The alcohol _was_ making things a bit foggy.

"You okay?" he mumbled into Rick's skin. He didn't want to pull away unless it was absolutely necessary. He never would've guessed that sucking on another man's nipple, least of all _Rick's_ , could be so erotic, but life was always full of surprises.

"B-Bruise..." Rick said, sounding strained. "Y-You're... hurting..."

At the word 'hurting,' Vyvyan quickly raised his head, trying to keep the concern off his face as he stared into the younger man's eyes.

"Sorry, Rick? What am I hurting?"

Rick glared at him, looking extremely frustrated.

"D-Don't stop... _that_ , you stupid fascist," he said. "I-I mean... k-keep doing that... that thing with your mouth. But..."

"But _what_ , Rick?" Really, of all the times the idiot had to pick to be cryptic...

"J-Just... Just stay away from my bruises, all right? I've got a ruddy big one on my belly, a-and your squeezing it is _not_ helping."

"Oh."

Vyvyan felt a mild wave of guilt go through him, which didn't mingle too well with all the arousal and lightheadedness. Slowly, he sat up, and the room spun briefly before righting itself again. Rick looked up at him with something very close to hatred.

"I s-said _don't_ stop, you bastard!"

Vyvyan graciously ignored the insult, though he made a note to hit Rick for it later. Instead, he raised his body and began pulling off his jeans, well aware of the throbbing erection underneath. Rick's eyes widened as he realized what the punk was doing.

"V-Vyvyan, aren't you... aren't you r-rushing things a bit?"

Vyvyan pulled his jeans off and threw them against the opposite wall before replying.

"No. We're both hard as rocks, and I've never liked waiting."

"B-But it's more romantic when you wait!"

"How would you know, _virgin_?"

Rick's eyes narrowed, and he looked indignant.

"I am _not_ a - "

"Cut the act, Rick. You admitted it, remember?"

The room and its occupants wavered and distorted dramatically to indicate the backwards passing of time. When things cleared again, Rick and Vyvyan saw themselves standing in the hallway of the flat, facing each other. Vyvyan was perched behind a howitzer, aiming its barrel at Rick. Rick was pinned against the back wall, whimpering and trying very hard not to piss himself.

"No, Vyvyan! No!" Rick was begging, holding out his hands as if to protect himself from the barrage of cannon balls his flatmate was shooting at him. "Please! Look, you were right, and I was wrong! I _am_ a virgin!"

"Not for long, matey."

Vyvyan shot another cannon ball at him, and Rick ducked, just in time to avoid being flattened. The stray cannon ball flew out the window and off into the distance. It must've flown too far away for its inevitable impact to be heard though, because Vyvyan didn't hear anything once it whistled out of hearing range.

Then again, he wasn't really listening that hard. He was much more interested in the quaking, huddled figure at the end of the hallway. He supposed it would be very easy to blow him to pieces, as he'd promised to do only a few minutes ago, but where would the fun be in that? If Rick was dead, Vyvyan wouldn't have anyone to torment except Neil, who was hardly a challenge.

When he realized no more cannon balls were flying at him, Rick looked up tentatively. Vyvyan walked around from the howitzer to stand above him, and Rick quailed again, clearly expecting Vyv to hit him. This Vyvyan did, giving the anarchist a sharp, open-palmed smack on the top of his head. Wouldn't want to betray Rick's expectations, after all.

"Stop crying, Rick."

"I-I'm not crying. I just... I have an allergy! It's making my eyes leak..."

"Rick," Vyvyan said, choosing not to acknowledge that last lie, "did I just hear you come to your senses and admit that you're a virgin?"

"I..."

"Remember, I've still got a howitzer."

"Oh... Oh, all _right_! Yes! _Yes_ , Vyvyan! I'm a virgin! I'm a ruddy virgin!"

"You willing to get that printed on a T-shirt?"

"Well..."

"Howitzer."

"Ugh, all right. But..." For a second, Rick looked hopeful. "But wait! The shops aren't open on a Sunday!"

"Well then, you can just make a sign and wear it around your neck until tomorrow."

"Are... Are you serious?"

"I've never been more serious in my life, Rick."

Rick sighed. The terror had gone out of his face and been replaced by good, old-fashioned misery. Ah, how Vyvyan had missed it.

"Very well, Vyvyan. I'll get a T-shirt printed first thing tomorrow that says 'I am a virgin,' and I'll wear a sign until then. You bloody bastard." He muttered these last three words, probably hoping Vyv wouldn't hear them. He did though, and gave Rick another smack in retaliation.

"You can also give me all the money you have," Vyvyan said. His put-on serious expression melted away, and he grinned. "Consider it compensation for disagreeing with me."

"You bloody - "

"Howitzer!"

Rick's eyes darted to the weapon, and all of his resolve disappeared in about two seconds.

"All right, all right! But I've barely got any money. You stole most of it last night when Alan went out on a food-run."

"Well, we'll figure that out later. In the meantime, get to making that sign, ploppy."

Rick and Vyvyan's past selves wavered and faded away, placing their present selves back at their rightful time. Rick looked quite green. Vyvyan couldn't really blame him. The wavering was hardly very comforting when you'd just drunk so much. Once he recovered slightly, Rick turned his attention to Vyvyan and gave an annoyed grunt.

"Yes, _very_ clever, Vyvyan. You could've just said 'howitzer,' and I would've remembered. You didn't have to distort the fabric of time to prove a point."

"It's such a good memory, though," Vyvyan said wistfully. "The look on your face..."

"I _remember_ , Vyvyan. I just saw it."

Vyv shrugged and brought his hands down to Rick's trousers.

"Oh, well. At least you're not stuttering anymore."

"V-V-Vyvyan! Wh-what do you th-think you're d-d-doing?!"

"Never mind."

Vyvyan rolled his eyes and, roughly, pulled Rick's trousers down. Rick yelped and tried to press his legs together to stop him, but Vyvyan only yanked them harder, forcing the younger man to relent or risk getting some serious arse-burn. Once the trousers were off, Vyvyan threw them against the wall with the same ferocity as he'd done with his jeans. Bloody stupid clothes. Why did people even wear them?

Vyvyan's mutinous thoughts about clothes were cut short when he turned his attention back to Rick and got a good look at the hard lump between his legs. _Surprisingly big for such a wimpy poof._ He laughed nervously and raised his eyes to Rick's upper-body. He hadn't gotten a very good look at it before, having opted to stick his face right into his chest the first chance he got. Now that he looked properly, Vyvyan saw that Rick actually looked... pretty good. Way too skinny, of course, and completely hairless - _girl_ \- but...

The bruises and bandages should've made him look more unattractive, but right now all they did was make the pure _flesh_ more desirable. Vyvyan could barely contain himself from biting and sucking every inch of it until Rick was black and blue all over.

But then he raised his eyes still further and saw his face, and oh _God_... Vyvyan was too drunk to think of any particularly poetic terms for it, but it was bloody beautiful. Dried tears and snot and blood aside, ridiculously poofy haircut aside, stupid face aside...

Vyvyan was so overwhelmed that he didn't resist at all when Rick grabbed him around the waist and pulled him down on top of him. All he did was lay his head in his flatmate's chest, hearing his heart beat frantically against his ear as Rick stroked his bare back. Vyv's erection, separated only by his thin Y-fronts, pressed blissfully hard into Rick's thigh. He could feel the sociology student's matching hardness against his stomach.

Yes... Yes, he could get used to this.

"It's okay, you know," Vyvyan said when he and Rick had been lying in silence for a few seconds. "About you being a virgin, I mean. I... I am, too." _Bloody alcohol._ He never would've admitted that, especially to Rick, if he hadn't been so drunk. But still, it didn't seem to matter right then, and Rick didn't seem to care much anyway.

"What a shock," he said lazily, seemingly too aroused to remember to stutter. He was making small swirls around Vyv's back with his fingers. It felt nice, but Vyvyan wasn't about to admit that. "Can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want to let _you_ in their trousers, Vyvyan. Except me. But I'm _veeeeery_ drunk. Would never be letting this happen if I wasn't. You're bleeding all over my knee, by the way."

"Mm-hmm," Vyvyan said, uninterested, snuggling closer to him. He supposed now wouldn't be a good time to mention that he'd snogged with SPG - the first one - one night when he'd been extremely drunk, even drunker than he was now. For a while, he'd thought that had counted as losing his virginity, but Mike had recently told him that, no, virginity had to involve penetration. Oh, well. At least he'd still gone further than Rick... until now.

"Are we... Are we going to do it, then?" Rick asked. He almost sounded embarrassed. "I don't think I'm going to last much longer. I want - "

He broke off suddenly as Vyvyan, without warning, shoved a hand down his Y-fronts and wrapped his fingers around his cock.

xxxxxxxxxx

Rick's entire body went rigid, time standing still as Vyv's hand touched him. Then, all at once, things unfroze and the _feelings_ came. Fast, abundant and _very_ strong, they flooded into Rick's body so rapidly, he felt like he was falling from a great height. His body trembled uncontrollably, and all thoughts leaked out of him except one, which rang out in his hollow brain again and again.

_Someone else's hand feels so different. Someone else's hand feels so different. Someone else's hand feels so different..._

He arched violently as Vyvyan ran his fingers up the top of his shaft, his hands falling from their grip around the punk. The next thing he knew, Vyv was sitting on his legs, straddling them while he squeezed his erection against Rick's thighs. He was still jerking him off, speeding up more by the second, and he clearly had a much better grip now that he was sitting up.

Rick stared stupidly up at him, taking in his pale, bare chest - both his nipples were pierced, which was disgusting but didn't really bother him right then - his flushed, aroused face; his bandages and wrist-chains. Thankfully he'd discarded the ridiculous bike padlock he always wore around his neck when he'd torn his shirt and jacket off. If he hadn't, it'd probably be swinging dangerously close to his companion's face right now.

Rick was alternating between staring at Vyvyan's chest, staring at Vyvyan's face, and repeatedly slamming his own head backwards into the floor while he whimpered the bastard's name. Good _God_ , if he'd known being touched by Vyvyan could feel this amazing, he would've tried this long ago.

Yes, he liked girls, _of course_ he liked girls. He wasn't gay, no matter how many times the insane hypocrite on top of him had told him he was. But that didn't mean he couldn't get off on the odd session with a guy, especially when he was drunk and emotionally vulnerable. A lot of healthy, heterosexual men experimented, didn't they? Besides, he was desperate. He'd been desperate ever since he'd hit puberty. After all, as Vyvyan had forced him to admit not too long ago, he _was_ a virgin. He'd never even kissed a woman, let alone had sex with one. The lord he didn't believe in knew he'd tried his arse off to get laid, not understanding why no one ever wanted to sleep with an articulate poetic genius like him, but it had never worked. Over ten years of sexual frustration had obviously taken its toll if he was willing to have it off with _Vyvyan_.

Rick's momentary rationale was suddenly shattered when Vyvyan made a particularly slow, satisfying stroke down the whole length of Rick's cock. Rick arched again and let out a strangled moan as a tight, familiar pulling sensation gripped him behind the navel. He felt pre-cum leaking from his tip and knew it wouldn't be long. He was gasping and panting like a dying dog, fingers digging into the carpet as Vyvyan relentlessly pleasured him. Desperate to reach his climax, Rick began thrusting his body up into the punk's to magnify the sensation of his hand on his penis. One more stroke, two more...

"U-Uuugh..."

In an almost perfect replication of his dream, Rick saw nothing but Vyvyan's grinning, triumphant face above his as he came, spilling his seed into the older man's hand in a quaking, shuddering orgasm that felt like it had taken half his insides with it. This, accompanied by his earlier cry and all the alcohol in his bloodstream, left him feeling positively drained, and it wasn't until Vyvyan's rough hand shook his shoulder that he realized he'd momentarily zoned out.

"Oi! Wake up, you selfish bastard! What about me?!"

The feeling of Vyv's erection against his bare thigh brought Rick back to his senses. His arms felt like putty as he attempted to lift them, his hands like jelly as he pushed them down Vyvyan's Y-fronts. Clumsily, he wrapped one hand around the punk's penis and used the other to fondle his balls. Vyvyan let out a low sigh and lay slowly back down on top of Rick, his body shaking very slightly.

Rick did his best to make it good for Vyvyan, even though his entire body felt like it was shutting down. Really, all he wanted to do now was sleep, but even he wasn't that selfish. The effects his awkward handjob were having on his flatmate _were_ rather satisfying, mostly because it felt good to be the one in control for once, but he was too tired to enjoy it that much. Vyvyan's choked moans; his muttered curses; his clinging to Rick like a drowning man to a piece of floating debris; and best of all, his slow, rhythmic rubbing against Rick's leg... they were all things the anarchist knew he would have enjoyed immensely only a minute before, instead of only mildly like he was now. Being the last to come was obviously the more preferable option most of the time. Trust the bastard to take that one before he could.

Vyvyan's cock and pair felt much like Rick's always did when he rubbed one out in his bedroom - or the bath, if Vyvyan had set up a particularly intrusive trap in the former. It wasn't anything special... not like a vagina. _That_ would've been super-arousing no matter how drained one was feeling. Stupid Vyvyan, being born a boy even though he had a ruddy _girl's_ name.

Luckily, it didn't last very long. Before Rick had been at it for more than two minutes, Vyvyan's breathing hitched, and he dug his fingernails into his fellow student's armpits, his lower body spasming. Rick bit back a groan of pain and irritation, and ran his fingers more quickly along Vyv's privates. Vyvyan let out one final, violent moan, then collapsed on top of Rick, breathing hard. It took Rick a second to realize it was over, and another second to realize his left hand was covered in Vyvyan's... love juice. _Ew..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... Yeah. That wraps this chapter up, I guess. I hope it was enjoyable. I certainly enjoyed writing it (probably because I'm a sick pervert XD). I also really enjoyed writing the 'virgin' argument scene between Rick and Vyv that took place in Time. We never saw what happened there, between the time Vyv was shooting at Rick with the howitzer and the time when Rick came downstairs with that sign. I enjoyed filling in the gaps. ^O^ Not sure when the next chapter will be up (see beginning notes), but I promise I'll update as soon as I can. <3
> 
> R.I.P., Rik, you glorious bastard.


End file.
